


Seven minutes in heaven

by orphan_account



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Arkham Asylum, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Enemies, M/M, Not finished yet., Seven Minutes In Heaven, Trapped In A Closet, Work In Progress, maybe some day?, smut will ensue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 03:28:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11958753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Edward and Oswald decide to use the rest of their remaining time trapped in Arkham's closet to make up for all the sexual frustration and aggressive tension between them.





	Seven minutes in heaven

IF there was a god, he would definitely be praying. Crawling to his belly and begging mercifully at foot of the all mighty lord and savor, whomever the big man in the sky may be.

But none the less, he isn't, and instead of being locked in the comforts of his home, isolated away at his apartment, he's here. Trapped tightly in a enclosed tiny closet somewhere in his new prisoned life of Arkham, face flushing and body backed roughly against the door with Oswald's thigh pressed to his groin.

It's hell. He's been straining back a full sprouting erection and every time Oswald moves the intensity is pure torchure. Not that he thinks of badly upon a situation like this, but with his past history with Oswald, the two have had quite an up and down relationship.

Oswald is charming and insanely cute and...well there lies the problem. Only a fool would date Oswald Cobblepot, the bastard.

Language, Edward scolds himself, feeling the strange but undeniably good sensation of Oswald stir up the friction as the small petitely penguin man shifts his waist, adjusting his support from where he is to lean on Ed's chest.

Cheeks heating up, Edward squishes a hand around the small space between them to rub at his fogged up glasses and swipe at the steam. Most likely from Oswald hot breath and both their arousal, their bodies burning up from too much pressing excitement.

But they have to stay here, hidden in this closet. Strange would catch on, and the two sworn love/hate frenemies must remain silent unless risking exposure. After all, the plan is to work togther, despite their non stop fights, arguments and mixed feelings, both of sexual and murderous intention.

As much as Ed can't stand the sight of him, they must cooperate. Though in all honestly its more of that some part in his mind actually is repulsed by the fact he'd consider wanting him. Oswald's not disgusting. What he did to his girlfriend, the second Kringle, that is what disgusts Edward.

What's even more disgusting is himself, he admits. However this is his denial. He's infatuated, madly driven into a lustful crave for the body of the man who once was his friend. A friend that killed someone he cared for.

How could he forgive that? And yet at the same time, there is a small something, a feeling that wants more. More than just a pardon touch or passing glance.

It's this point he realizes his eyes have been fastened shut for longer than he can remember, and Oswald, remarkably enough for his small height, leans all his support to Ed's shoulder, snuggling to his neck.

Or at least Ed thinks, feeling a pair of hands wander to and through, one passing by the articles of Ed's white stretchy fit tank top and the other somewhere around the baggy green boxer shorts that he's wearing so well and doing a great job of not soiling already. He can feel the fiction rise again, as well as a huff of Oswald's lushly light voice.

"Cute Nygma." Oswald whispers directly to his ear, sarcasm sputtering off the tip of his tounge like venom of a snake.

Edward opens his eyes in time just to peer through his glasses and realize now is the perfect opportunity to take a breath and squint them back shut. He finds Oswald now raking a nimble little finger upside the outer of his inner leg. "You could poke an eye out with that thing."

"Shut the fuck up." He whispers back quickly, face scrunching into upmost displeasement. All in all, he's secretly pleased, but at the same time he freaking hates Oswald's smart ass comments and just the mere words, how they affect his body. He does have a body to be proud of, after all.

Oswald stiffens, then his face shifts. It's something...something else. Necessarily not quite what Edward expects. "Oswald." His voice raises, perhaps more louder than it should because Oswald hastily swipes a finger over his face and shushes him right away.  
"Oswald," His voice tries again, more sweeter this time, "your..are you.."

A hand quickly clutches to the shallow shape of his shirt, nails digging at his chest.

Edward stops. And then reflects. When was the last time, he had been this close? So close to an old friend? So close they could both taste the pure bad intentions felt between each other?

"Shut up," Oswald murmmers, giving his cock as squeeze, "before we get caught.."

Edward breathes, trying not to open his tightly shut eyes. Oswald scoots unbelievably closer, probably on the very verge of his tip toes, and oh this is..shit!! Why does he want to do that with Oswald? And now, of all times?!?

"I'll kill you for this. I swear..I'll kill you." He manages to grumble, or at least try to show a careless expression. But his body is betraying, and fuck, Oswald is fingering his tip so freaking good!! Half whimpering, his body jerks from underneath the desiring touch. Completely, he's forgot all intention of killing Oswald.

"I'll swear one day I will~AH! Love THAT!!"

Seeing this, Oswald tries not to smug up a smile. Now, that's got Edward mentally cursing. Why did he say that? Okay. What a stupid!

"Oh Edward." Oswald's lips pronounce, subtlely. He dares not say his name.

"I will. Kill you."  
"No, no, that's not much of a threat.."  
"Fuck." Edward squints his eyes, hips rolling worse than ever before. More longer, more drawn out. He can't help but beg the words, letting them escape his lips. "Please.."

Oswald smiles, nods, then shrugs. Lips parting, he leans and murmurs, mouth pressing rather deliciously to his skin, where the space lies of his long neck.  
"Ah, fuck." Edward tilts a head aside, turing with his mouth agape. "Fuck me."

"NO." Oswald spits back, not sparing the harsh loud noise in his voice. Shoving Edward aside from the door, and making sure the coast is clear, he slides out quickly before making as dash. "Go fuck yourself."

Cute Nygma. Edward watches from instead the small space, breath heavy and cock painfully sprung between his legs. Oswald words rumble around through his head, mind battling the differences of sex and hate. Go fuck yourself.  
Then again, looking down to his prick, he clutches the hard length in his hands and reconsiders.

  
The idea doesn't seem so bad.

 


End file.
